rabbit blog

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

SHITFACE THE NATION

How pumped up are you for tonight's state of the union address? Oh, I'm very excited about it. Personally, I plan to play the state of the union drinking game I wrote about in the LA Times - although I'll probably switch to water after two beers. Ah yes, living on the edge, pushing the limits of personal hydration! Will just two beers, four glasses of water and a rousing speech be enough to convince me that the state of our union is strong? Let's hope so, I'd like to maintain a happy, delusional glow for a few hours, if possible.

Monday, January 30, 2006

FUNNY WEIRD, NOT FUNNY HA-HA

Ah, yes. More proof that men and women are as different from each other as a tornado is from a sack of rocks: Apparently, men don't really dig funny women. Or, more specifically, men like funny women for brief flings, but would prefer to get serious with someone who has no sense of humor whatsoever. Nice!

Personally, I would rather chew through a chain-link fence than date a guy who has no sense of humor. Hanging out with a man who's not funny is, to me, like waltzing with a lead blanket or swimming through oatmeal. Nothing makes me more ornery and unkind than a man who's not funny, a man who doesn't see what's funny or ironic about anything. I fucking hate straight-shooters. Blech! Fucking humorless honkies.

But see, in my experience, it's always the really dull guys who hate funny women. I don't think that most smart, funny guys are against funny women at all. Au contraire, I feel quite certain that most men worth their salt are quite pleased by funny, and similarly, find unfunny downright unpleasant. And the smart, funny guys who would rather date women who don't have a sense of humor? You can only pray that those guys leave you alone, because they're insecure freakjobs.

These studies about the average guy are good for a minute of snickering and sneering, but beyond that they're useless. Don't get me wrong - I love reading them, and I love saying, "Those fuckers! They'd rather date a plush toy than a real woman!" But then I think about all the plush toys out there, male and female, and my god, who the fuck cares about any of them? Plenty of men go to Hooters to eat greasy hot wings and gaze at teenagers' titties, and plenty of women have less to say than a sack of hammers. I'm sure they're perfectly fine human beings, but why should I concern myself with their limitations and their shitty taste?

OK. Time to state the obvious. I'm completely out of the flow. I'm not in the mood to post anything, ever. I have too many other deadlines. The dogs need to be walked. There are dishes in the sink. I'm starting to get something like carpal tunnel in my wrists, and it limits the amount of time I can type. My life is dramatically different than it was a year ago. I don't even know where to begin. I don't want to begin.

So here's what's going to happen: I'm going to post every day in February, and I'm going to start today, January 30th. I have no idea how I'm going to do it. My head is full of unprintable mush, unpopular sentiments, bewildered asides, and digressions about my pets. That's just the way it feels when you're out of the flow. Very important to remember that. It's like when you haven't run for two months, and your legs feel like Jello, but you pull your running shoes on and walk on wobbly legs out to the sidewalk and trust that, despite how idiotic it feels at first, in a few weeks you'll feel like a capable athlete again - or at least you won't feel like a fucking sack of shit.

Jesus, how many times have you read that fucking comparison? "It's like when you haven't run in a while..." Do you feel like you just wandered into a Writing Your First Novel continuing education course, and the instructor, who's wearing some kind of quilted vest and jeans that come up to her ribs, is telling everyone about how important it is to write every day, no matter what, without judgment? Do you feel like you're half-reading "Writing Down The Bones" for the fifteenth time? Oof. "Don't worry, you'll feel strong again!" Argh. No judgment. Ppfffft. As if. No fucking judgment. I feel judgmental about the concept of "no judgment."

The irony, of course, is that writers are some of the most judgmental fucks on the planet, otherwise they wouldn't set out to write in the first place. We write down our judgments of others, then we judge ourselves over those judgments. Judge, judge, judge.

Alright, back to the point. I'm going to post here every day in February. Now's the time to send in those advice letters. Don't be afraid to ask about something stupid - the smaller the problem, the better. Big problems are also good. But there won't just be advice, no, we're going to explore new formats. It's going to be pure fucking genius! Or rather, I can't guarantee that it will even be readable. Stay tuned!